


Don't Look Back

by FireDancer



Series: The Path to Heaven (Runs Through Miles of Clouded Hell) [1]
Category: DCU - Comicverse, Gundam Wing, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: AU, Be Nice To Barton, Circus Bros!, Crossover, FeelsChat is to blame, Gen, M/M, Making Clint's Life Better
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-07-15
Updated: 2012-07-15
Packaged: 2017-11-10 00:07:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/460028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FireDancer/pseuds/FireDancer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Clint Barton runs away to the circus with his brother, he doesn't expect to end up meeting two very different boys who teach him that there are people you can trust implicitly.  Dick Grayson becomes the brother Barney should have been, and the mysterious Trowa gives Clint a chance to relate to someone else who knows what it's like to go through hell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. When You Said That You Were Spent

**Author's Note:**

> This started life as a comment fic fill, then the Feels started encouraging me to expand on it and... well now it's a thing. All titles come from the song "It's Time" by the wonderful band with the awesome name: Imagine Dragons. Many many thanks to the Feels for their encouragement and help, any mistakes in here are purely due to my own ignorance.
> 
> I will be adding more to this story, as soon as it gets written. Chapters will be short and not directly linear but should form a coherent whole.

“You’re doing that wrong; you’re going to be so sore if you keep it up.”

Clint was already glaring as he looked up. He was tired and hungry and standing ankle deep in elephant shit and so far the circus wasn’t the life of cotton candy and tightropes that Barney had promised it would be. The kid who’d offered the opinion was standing a few feet away, smiling a big friendly smile and looking at Clint with the most ridiculously blue eyes he’d ever seen. He had to be a couple years older than Clint and he had the kind of looks that would have made the girls at school shoving their phone numbers in his locker (Or his pants, for some of them). He was also wearing the most optimistically helpful expression Clint could actually believe was real, and when Clint didn’t tell him to go screw himself immediately, he walked deftly around the mess and held his hand out for the pitchfork. Huffing in irritation, Clint handed it over, and spent the next two hours getting helpful tips on how to properly shovel crap and charm elephants.

Flopping down onto a shaded bench, with the boney lack of grace that only 12 year olds could manage, Clint eyed Elephant-Charmer-And –Crap Shoveler-Extraordinaire and said carefully, “Thanks.”

Flashing Clint a dazzling smile (really, Clint wondered, was there anything about this guy that wasn’t ridiculously attractive?) he held out his hand, “No problem. I’m Dick Grayson. I’m one of the aerialists.”

He’d been with the circus for all of three days but even he knew who Grayson was, though he didn’t know that he honest to God went by _Dick_. The guy was pretty much the whole reason that the circus wasn’t going under like so many of the other little acts were. Which begged the question what the heck he was doing out here with Clint, the poop-guy. “Clint. Barton. My brother Barney and me, we just signed on.”

“Yeah, I heard. Welcome to Haley’s, Clint. Come by my trailer when you’ve got some free time, I’ll show you around the place. You’re not part of the circus until you’ve been up top.”

Clint’s smile grew to a matching grin at the thought of being up there, so high and distant from everything, and he swore, “You’re on.”


	2. Time to Build From the Bottom of the Pit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint loves heights but sometimes they scare the hell out of Dick.

Clint had never understood how people could be afraid of heights. To him they were safe, out of sight of squinting eyes and out of reach of drunken fists, and impossible to sneak up on. No one could hurt him if he was high up enough (He never seemed to find ‘high enough’, so Clint was always looking for somewhere higher.) Grip tightening to maintain his balance, he leaned out further, reveling in the sense of freedom and safety. The feeling of vast emptiness around him that most people associated with falling felt more like flight to him, like just willing it hard enough would allow him to defy gravity and soar somewhere where no one would ever hurt him again.

“Clint?” Dick’s voice behind him sounded uncharacteristically worried, and Clint reluctantly shifted his focus to the environment around him, looking down as Dick continued, “Clint… you know the safety net’s not up, right? Can you just… back up a little? Please? Whatever’s wrong, I’ll help you fix it, okay?”

The realization that the people looking up from below him thought he was going to fall, that Dick thought he was going to jump, made Clint stop leaning so far forward and shift back so more than half his butt was on the platform and he could look up at his friend, “Relax Dick, I’m not suicidal, I promise.”

Relief raced across Dick’s face, followed quickly by concern, making him look older than his sixteen years, “What happened to you Clint?”

Lifting a hand to prod gingerly at his black eye, Clint shrugged, “Not everybody can be as graceful as you Tinkerbell.”

They both knew what had really happened, but Clint wouldn’t admit it, and Dick wouldn’t go after Barney without proof that he was the reason Clint sported so many bruises these days. So instead of demanding to know details and forcing Clint to lie to him, Dick just sat down next to him, slinging a protective arm around his shoulders and tugging him close, partly because he was a physical kind of person, and partly to keep Clint from falling. The people below took that as a sign that everything was okay, and started to drift off, and Clint watched them until Dick asked suddenly, “I never told you about how my parents died, did I?”

Clint jerked his head up to stare at Dick, because in the two years since they’d become friends, Dick hadn’t once even alluded to how his parents died. Clint knew they were gone, of course, but talking about what happened seemed to call down some kind of curse or something, because no one ever said anything about it. Shaking his head slowly, Clint said, “No… I figured you didn’t want to talk about it.”

Shrugging, Dick focused his eyes on the trapeze rigging, his voice curiously distant, “There was this mobster. He was trying to get Mr. Haley to pay him protection money when the circus was in town and Mr. Haley refused. He sent some guy to cut the trapeze line. Halfway through our act they… The line snapped. The net wasn’t up.”

“Jesus, Dick…” Recalling the look on Dick’s face when he’d turned around a moment ago, Clint leaned harder into his side, swallowing hard, “I’m sorry; I didn’t know. I didn’t mean to scare you like that.”

“It’s okay, it’s just… One of the things I regret most is that they didn’t have time to have more kids, you know? I’ve always wanted a little brother I could teach the trapeze, someone I could catch, someone I could protect. I know you’re not technically my little brother, but as far as I’m concerned you might as well be, so… you can come to me if there’s something you need help with, alright?”

Dick was so sincere that Clint had to swallow hard against the lump in his throat and all he could manage in response was a rough, “I’m absolutely holding you to that the next time I’m cleaning out the elephant car.”

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to point out any mistakes, I'm sure I made some!


End file.
